NMMIMMi 



1 

1 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Chap ;''!?;Triffht No._ 

Sheii_._. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



The Loom of Life 



AND 
{^ . , IB 

If Christ Were a Guest in 
Our Home 






/ 4r 

Rev. F. N. Peloubet, D.D. 

Author of ^'Select Notes," etc. 



im 



f) 



mi3 






f. 



United Society of Christian Endeavor 
Boston and Chicago 



1 



jl.ibr«^ry of Conar%*«« 

OCT 4 1900 

Copyr'jHt intry 

^.CIm,HI. 



SECOND COPY. 

D*-Uvfc««d to 

OPiOtR DiVIStON, 
_OCT 18 190Q 



Copyright, 1900, 

by the 

United Society of Christian Endeavor 



THE TAPESTRY-WEAVERS. 

Let us take to our hearts a lesson — no lesson can 

braver be — 
From the ways of the tapestry-weavers on the other 

side of the sea. 

Above their heads the pattern hangs : they study it 

with care. 
The while their fingers deftly work, their eyes are 

fastened there. 

They tell this curious thing beside of the patient, 

plodding weaver : 
He works on the wrong side evermore, but works 

for the right side ever. 

It is only when the weaving stops, and the web is 

loosed and turned, 
That he sees his real handiwork, that his marvellous 

skill is learned. 

Ah ! the sight of its delicate beauty, how it pays him 

for all his cost ! 
No rarer, daintier work than his was ever done by 

the frost. 

Then the master bringeth him golden hire, and giveth 

him praise as well ; 
And how happy the heart of the weaver is no tongue 

but his own can tell. 
3 



4 THE TAFESTBY-WEAVEB8. 

The years of man are the looms of God, let down 

from the place of the sun, 
Wherein we are weaving alway, till the mystic web 

is done, — 

Weaving blindly, but weaving surely, each for him- 
self his fate. 

We may not see how the right side looks : we can 
only weave and wait. 

But, looking above for the pattern, no weaver need 

have fear. 
Only let him look clear into heaven, — the perfect 

Pattern is there. 

If he keeps the face of our Saviour forever and always 

in sight. 
His toil shall be sweeter than honey, his weaving is 

sure to be right. 

And, when his task is ended, and the web is turned 

and shown, 
He shall hear the voice of the Master ; it shall say to 

him, ^* Well done !'^ 

And the white-vnnged angels of heaven, to bear him 

thence, come down ; 
And God for his wage shall give him, not coin, but a 

golden crown. 

— Anson G, Chester, 



The Loom of Life. 



WAS visiting one of the largest 
factories in this country, and 
watched for the first time the 
famous Jacquard looms weaving 
Brussels and velvet carpets as the simple 
threads of the woof and the bright lines 
of the warp were combining in the most 
beautiful designs of color and of form. 

But the most wonderful thing about 
this weaving was the fact that, while low 
before our eyes lay the warp, and the 
shuttle playing to and fro between the 
changing threads, the pattern to be woven 
was decided above. Overhead in the 
upper part of the loom were rows of per- 
forated cards on which was written, in a 
language I could not understand, the 
exact pattern which the shuttle was weav- 
ing below. Thus, while the shuttle mov- 
ing back and forth seemed to make all 

5 



6 THE LOOM OF LIFE. 

those beautiful forms, in reality the whole 
design of the weaving was decided and 
controlled from above. 

There, thought I, is a type of our lives. 
Man's free will and God's control are set 
forth by these wonderful looms. Our 
free wills, like these shuttles, carry the 
threads of our choices, our purposes, and 
our deeds through the divine warp of our 
lives, — the circumstances and influences 
that surround us, the laws by which we 
live, the endowments and powers of our 
natures. For, choose, determine, and plan 
all we may, feel we never so strong and 
wise to control our own destiny and work 
out our own success, yet God holds the 
warp of our lives in his own hands, and 
there are a thousand things in every life 
as much beyond our control as the march 
of the stars through the sky. 

Yet there is much that we do control ; 
and the divine pattern God has drawn as 
the best possible for us will not be woven 
in the loom of life unless we send the 
right threads through his warp, and weave 
faith and love and honesty and purity and 



TEE L003I OF LIFE. 7 

truth through the changing threads of the 
divine providence. 

I have TN^atched the weavers in the 
famous Gobelin factories at Paris making 
those exquisitely beautiful tapestries, in 
which woollen threads have been woven 
by hand into pictures almost as delicately 
shaded and perfect in form as the best 
paintings wrought by the hand of genius. 

Almost every representative scene on 
earth, from the carnage of war to those 
^'everlasting gardens where angels walk 
and seraphs are the wardens," from the 
hate of the persecutor to the heroism of 
the martyr, — all have been woven in 
simple looms from threads of wool. 

I stood beside the most beautiful of the 
Aubusson tapestries, made to adorn the 
walls of a palace, and on my asking the 
attendant to show me the reverse side, he 
took down instead a miniature loom on 
which was a tapestry partly woven. The 
back was covered with the ends of the 
artist's threads, a confused jumble of 
colors without order or meaning, and re- 
sembling the picture on the right side 



8 THE LOOM OF LIFE. 

only as the tuning of an organ resembles 
an oratorio. 

The artist, he said, stands behind his 
web, and does all his weaving from this 
reverse side. He does not see the picture 
as it comes into being. But with the ma- 
terial at his side, and the copy he is to 
follow above him, by imitating that ex- 
actly in every form and color, though 
working on the wrong side where he can- 
not see his unfolding work, he yet weaves 
the true picture in his loom. 

The comparison of life to spinning or 
weaving is almost as old as literature. 
The ancient Greeks saw the three Fates 
spinning the thread of human life, Clotho, 
with a crown of seven stars and a robe 
like the rainbow, holding the distaff; 
Lachesis twisting and allotting the thread ; 
and Atropos cutting it off by death. 

^^ Clotho spin, Lachesis twist, 
Atropos the thread to sever; 
So weave the web of human life, — 
God's looms go on forever." 

Just how much Job saw when he said, 



THE LOOM OF LIFE. 9 

"My dPtjs are swifter than a weaver's 
shuttle," I do not know ; but certainly for 
us there is a wide and deep meaning. 
You remember the picture Tennyson 
gives of the Lady of Shalott in her high 
tower by the river, weaving steadily. 

^^ There she weaves by night and day 
A magic web with colors gay. 
And moving through a mirror clear 
That hangs before her all the year 
Shadows of the world appear. ' ' 

All the scenes of earth are reflected in 
her mirror and woven in her magic web. 
So all that is reflected in the mirror of 
our souls like the shadow pictures of a 
camera obscura, every scene, every 
thought, every emotion, every truth, is 
being woven into the web of our lives. 
If God should touch our senses as he did 
those of Elisha's servant, so that we could 
see the invisible and hear the inaudible, 
this world would appear full of looms 
like a great factory ; the air would be 
filled with the hum of machinery ; every 
man, woman, and child would be seen 
busy at his loom weaving the web of his 



10 THE LOOM OF LIFE. 

own life. "We should hear the clatter of 
the shuttles, and see the pictures which 
their lives have been spent in weaving, 
some just begun, others almost completed ; 
some simple in their loveliness, others ex- 
quisitely beautiful ; some, possibly, poorly 
and meanly done, and some so well 
wrought with threads of love and peace 
and self-denial and duty as to be worthy 
of a place in the King's palace near the 
throne. 

The eleventh chapter of Hebrews is a 
catalogue, with brief descriptions, of some 
of the pictures woven by noble men of 
old. But each one of us is speeding the 
shuttle and weaving some kind of pic- 
ture for eternity. 

^' There is a little spider 

Which weaves a web so fine, 
It might be lying at your feet 
With every thread in it complete, 
And you not see a line. 

^' But early morning shows it 
Agleam with pearly dew, 
And in the rising sun it lies 
Bright as the walls of Paradise 
With gems of every hue. 



THE LOOM OF LIFE, 11 

' ' So you and I are weavers, 

And only God can see 
The woof and warp of deed and thought 
By which the wondrous robe is wrought 

Which covers you and me. ' ' 

God has set a pattern the best possible 
for us to follow, and we can make it or 
mar it as we will. 

The warp in these life-looms is that 
part of our lives which is beyond our con- 
trol, the circumstances and inj9.uences in 
which we are placed, the natures with 
which we are endowed, the accidents that 
befall us, the temptations which test us, 
the opportunities which open their doors 
before us. Then our actions, the move- 
ments of our free wills, are the shuttles 
which draw the thread through the 
changes of the divine warp. 

But note well, the shuttle is not the 
thread. It only draws the thread. 
The shuttle remains in the factory, 
the thread endures as a part of the 
picture. The forms of our actions, the 
sphere and the place where they are 
wrought, pass away ; but the thread that 



12 THE LOOM OF LIFE. 

is woven by them into the life, that remains 
forever, — the motives that permeate the 
action, the love it expresses, the faithful- 
ness, the truth, the honor, the courage, — 
these are the soul of our deeds and never 
die. 

Honor is no more honorable in a palace 
than in a cottage. Piety, truth, love, are 
no nobler on a throne than in a factory, 
in the parlor than in the kitchen. A 
golden shuttle studded with rubies and 
diamonds may carry a mean, unworthy 
thread, and one of plain, homely wood 
may weave threads of gold. Actions on 
a splendid scale, in a high and glorious 
sphere, on the thrones and mountain-peaks 
of life, may indeed weave a noble thread, 
but may, too, weave a miserable one into 
that life which is gauged not by the 
grandeur of its sphere but by the purity 
of its motives, the nobility of its pur- 
poses, the love of the heart; while the 
narrowest sphere and the lowliest work, 
the deeds unknown, save to the angels 
and to God, may weave into the life a 
purity so perfect, a love so deep, such 



THE LOOM OF LIFE. 13 

devotion, such courage, such faith, such 
heroism, that all the great cloud of wit- 
nesses will repeat God's '^ Well done," 
and welcome us into the joy of our Lord. 

There are certain truths which this 
subject enables us to see more clearly. 

I. God has a plan for every person's 
life, the most beautiful and perfect pos- 
sible for him ; and the living this divine 
plan, and this only, makes a successful life. 

Of Abraham, Joseph, David, Paul, it 
is expressly said that God had certain 
definite plans and purposes for their lives. 
But Christ has taught us, and all science 
confirms it, that God cares for the least 
as perfectly as for the greatest ; that not 
only thrones and empires, but even spar- 
rows, do not fall without our Father's care ; 
and not only are apostles and prophets 
cared for, but even the hairs of our un- 
worthy heads are all numbered. If there 
was a life-plan for Abraham, for Daniel, 
for Paul, there is a life-plan for us. We, 
like them, were chosen " before the foun- 
dation of the world, that we should be 
holy and without blame before him in 



14 THE LOOM OF LIFE, 

love," and " that he might make known 
the riches of his glory on the vessels of 
mercy which he had afore prepared unto 
glory." 

"We have been too accustomed to look 
upon election, predestination, as a dismal 
and troublesome doctrine, an enigma, a 
stumbling-block, a rock of offence. "We 
incline to put it out of our creeds, and 
wish it were not in the Bible, where it is 
stated more strongly than in most of our 
creeds. 

But, when we see that election is the 
divine side of our life-plan, when we look 
upon it as the declaration that God has 
planned out the best possible life for each 
of us ; that it is God, not chance, God, 
not demons, God, not men, that decides 
that part of our lives which is beyond 
our own control ; that it is God's hand 
drawing for us the picture pattern for 
our lives, the most radiant in beauty, the 
most full of glory, of which our natures 
are capable ; then we thank God for his 
electing love. I rejoice that all that 
comes to us from beyond ourselves, every 



THE LOOM OF LIFE, 15 

door opened, every accident, every sor- 
row, is controlled by his wisdom, love, and 
power. Here lies the power and comfort 
of the old Calvinism. It exaggerated the 
doctrine, it laid too much emphasis upon 
it. We cannot accept the forms in which 
it has been stated. Yet the essence of the 
doctrine of election has always made men 
mighty. The greatest men have believed 
that God elected them to their work. 
To believe that God thought enough of 
us to plan out each of our lives from all 
eternity ; that we are carrying out God's 
will, God's plan, in what we are doing ; 
that his will, his love, his power, are be- 
hind and underneath our lives, — cannot 
but make us strong and triumphant. It 
is the joy and glory and comfort and tri- 
umph of our lives. 

Dr. Bushnell has well said : " Every 
human soul has a complete and perfect 
plan cherished for it in the heart of God, — 
a divine biography marked out. This life, 
rightly unfolded, will be a complete and 
beautiful whole, an experience led on by 
God, and unfolded by his secret nurture 



16 THE LOOM OF LIFE. 

as trees and flowers by the secret nurture 
of the world ; a drama cast in the mould 
of a perfect art ; a divine study that shall 
forever unfold, in wondrous beauty, the 
love and faithfulness of God; great in its 
conception, great in the divine skill by 
which it is shaped; above all, great in 
the momentous and glorious issues it pre- 
pares." 

The good Father has planned out the 
best possible picture for us to weave for 
eternity. There is not a single thread he 
puts in, of joy or of sorrow, of difficulty 
or of rest, of pain, sickness, loss, or of 
peace and prosperity, light or dark, bril- 
liant or shaded ; not one thread he bids 
us weave into the web ; not a hard duty 
or self-denial or temptation to be over- 
come ; not one thread of love, joy, long- 
suffering, gentleness, meekness, temper- 
ance, but, if w^e follow out the divine plan, 
will lead to the most perfect and beautiful 
life possible for us ; and every seeming 
evil and dark and trying touch will make 
the picture more lovely forevermore. 

And take note that this it is which 



THE LOOM OF LIFE, 17 

makes a successful life ; not the carrying 
out of our own plans, but of God's plan ; 
not the gaining of our own wishes, not 
the realizing of the visions of beauty we 
have pictured for our future ; but to live 
the life God has planned for us to live, to 
weave the picture whose pattern God has 
made for us. Nothing is good, nothing is 
success, which departs from God's plan. 

If a common tyro should take his paint- 
brush into the art gallery, and undertake 
to improve a picture by one of the old 
masters, we should cry out, " Stop, let it 
alone ; every touch of yours is a disfigure- 
ment and a blunder." And if we, mur- 
muring at our lot, undertake to improve 
on God's plan for our lives, the very an- 
gels cry out, '^ Stop, let it alone ! Do 
you think you can plan a better life than 
God has planned for you ? " 

The weavers of tapestries rejoiced 
when they could have some genius like 
Raphael ^ paint the picture patterns for 

^Twelve cartoons by Eaphael for the tapestry- 
weavers are in existence, several in the National 
Museum at London. 



18 THE LOOM OF LIFE. 

their weaving. How blessed and grand 
it is to have God draw the pattern for 
our lives ! How inspiriting, how in- 
spiring, to know that these seemingly 
commonplace lives of ours may be lived 
after a plan made by the wisdom and 
love of God ! No life so lived is common- 
place or dreary. Every such life is a joy 
and delight forever. 

II. We learn another lesson from the 
position of the tapestry-weavers during 
their work. They do not stand in front 
of their web where they can see the pic- 
ture as it comes into being, like the artists 
who use the brush on canvas ; but they 
stand on the reverse side, where they see 
only the ends and thrums that cover the 
surface, a mystery of confusion and tangle, 
giving faint hint of the beautiful picture 
on the other side. 

Thus, in large part, we see God's work 
in the moral world, on the reverse side. 
The world is full of sins and crimes and 
disorders, tornadoes of tumult and war, 
mighty tides of evil, with many a bright 
gleam of religion, of holy living, of blessed 



THE LOOM OF LIFE, 19 

deeds, and yet in such confusion and dis- 
order that, with all the bright colors, we 
can see but a faint outline, a dim, misty 
foreshadowing of what God means the 
world to be. 

But we are to remember that as yet 
we see chiefly the reverse side of God's 
work, the dispersing chaos of the new 
earth and the new heavens, the ends and 
thrums, and not the completed picture. 
But God knows what he is doing. He 
has given visions of it in the promises. 
He has opened windows in Isaiah, and 
shed gleams of its glory in Revelation. 
And we may rest assured that God's 
world is not a failure. One of the strang- 
est things I have ever known is a man 
standing in a Christian pulpit, with one 
hand holding the cross, " the wisdom and 
the power of God," and with the other 
receiving the Pentecostal gift of the Holy 
Spirit, — and then declaring that the world 
is growing worse and worse under all 
that the wisdom and love of God can do 
for the redemption of man. It is a libel. 
It is contrary to fact. Out of the smoke 



20 THE LOOM OF LIFE, 

of the battle is crystallizing the crown of 
victory ; out of the confusion and discord 
are being formed the harmonies of the 
new song of triumph ; out of the clouds 
and darkness is arising the dawn ; out of 
the chaos the new heavens and the new 
earth are being born. 

See how it has been in Armenia, — how 
the troubles and massacres are pro- 
claiming to the world the glorious work 
of the foreign missionaries, making 
known even to the throne the gospel of 
Jesus. How they are uniting the fac- 
tions, are showing us multitudes of mar- 
tyrs who die for their religion, and have 
set as a light upon a mountain-top the 
heroism of the missionaries, like the apos- 
tles of old ! The new wine can never be 
put into the new bottles without commo- 
tions and upheavals, such as Jesus foretold 
to his disciples. Unrest, change, criticism 
of the past, are the sign of fuller life, of a 
new spirit of progress, of springtime, of 
growth. They are the bursting of the 
shell and husk, so that the seed may grow 
into a tree ; they are the opening of the 



TEE LOOM OF LIFE. 21 

bud, that it may unfold into the flower. 
They are like the chambered nautilus, 
leaving " the past year's dwelling for the 
new." Only thus can we " hear the voice 
that sings " : — 

^^ BuUd thee more stately mansions, O my soul, 
As the swift seasons roll ! 
Leave thy low-vaulted past ! 
Let each new temple, nobler than the last. 
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast. 
Till thou at length art free, 

Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting 
sea." 

Satan has not outwitted the Creator. 

Evil is not king of this world. 

Sin is not triumphing over righteous- 
ness. 

Jesus Christ has not died in vain. 

*Eedeeming love has not failed of its 
purpose. 

God will sometime show us the right 
side of the world's picture. He will hang 
up the completed picture before a gazing 
universe, "to the intent that now unto 
the principalities and powers in heavenly 
places might be known by the church the 
manifold wisdom of God," 



22 TEE LOOM OF LIFE. 

Then, as we see the right side of the 
work God has been slowly weaving 
through the ages, we shall be rapt in ad- 
miration at the radiant and lovely pic- 
ture ; and once again shall " the morning 
stars sing together " ; once again shall 
" all the sons of God shout for joy." 

Then, too, we are weaving our own 
lives largely on the reverse side. There 
is much in every life of which we do not 
know the meaning. There are difficulties 
and losses and disappointments and fail- 
ures. There are interrupted plans, broken 
threads, the dark lines of sickness and 
pain, and the black threads of death. We 
cannot see how all these can work out 
good for us. God does not reveal to us 
the completed picture of our lives. " "We 
know not what we shall be," says the 
apostle. And Christ says to us as he said 
to Peter, " What I do thou knowest not 
now, but thou shalt know hereafter." 

JSTo man ever yet, at the beginning, 
knew all the meaning and possibilities of 
his life. The child studying his A B 
has not even a far-away dream of the 



THE LOOM OF LIFE, 23 

wonderful literature spelled out from the 
alphabet. 

Eobert Eaikes, when he began his Sun- 
day-school in Gloucester, saw no vision 
of the procession of twenty millions 
marching to the Sunday-schools of to-day. 

John Bunyan, shut up in prison during 
the twelve best years of his life, while his 
soul was longing to preach the gospel, 
and multitudes were starving for want of 
the bread of life from his lips, could have 
no conception that by his "Pilgrim's 
Progress" he should preach to millions 
instead of thousands, and for centuries 
instead of years. And so we, shut up in 
the narrow schoolhouse of life, slowly 
spelling out the hard words and slowly 
learning our hard lessons, cannot see the 
larger spheres and grander living for which 
Ave are being fitted even in this life, much 
less in the blessed homeland beyond. 

^^ So I go on not knowing. I would not if I might ; 
I would rather walk in the dark with God than go 

alone in the light : 
I would rather walk with him by faith than walk 
alone by sight." 



24 THE LOOM OF LIFE. 

On the walls of the beautiful Harvard 
Memorial Hall are inscribed the names 
of those members of the University who 
died for their country in the late war. 
The walls are frescoed not only with the 
names of these heroes in bright colors, but 
with the most wonderful array of patriotic 
sentiments, noble and touching, that I 
have ever seen gathered together in one 
place. But almost every name and in- 
scription is in Latin, and it is said that 
some of the workmen did not know the 
meaning of what they painted on those 
walls. They followed their copy. They 
made the letters and words, in colors 
bright or dark, as they were bidden, but 
without understanding what marvellous 
meaning lay hidden in their work. 

So we work upon our lives. We weave 
in the bright colors and the dark. With 
duties and pleasures, with sorrows and 
joys, with cares and work, we write out 
our lives in an unknown language. But 
by and by, for every faithful one there 
will be read out in some heavenly tongue 
a biography we never dreamed was ours, 



THE LOOM OF LIFE. 25 

full of blessing and glory and immortal- 
ity. 

Not long ago, I picked up in a stray 
book a poem, which so perfectly expresses 
the thought I wish to impress that I will 
quote it in part : — 

^^ A weaver sat by the side of his loom, 
A-flinging the shuttle fast; 
And a thread that would last tiU the hour of doom 
Was added at every cast. 

'' His warp had been by the angels spun, 
And his weft was bright and new, 
Like threads which the morning upraids from the 
sun 
All jewelled over with dew. 

** And fresh-lipped, bright-eyed, beautiful flowers 
In the soft rich web were bedded; 
And blithe to the weaver sped onward the hours; 
Not yet were Time's feet leaded. 

^^ But something there came slow stealing by, 
And a shade on the fabric fell; 
And I saw that the, shuttle less blithely did fly; 
For thought has a wearisome spell. 

*^ And anon I marked there a tear-drop's stain 
TMiere the flowers had fallen away. 
But still the weaver kept weaving on, 
Though the fabric all was gray. 



26 THE LOOM OF LIFE. 

^^ And things all strange were woven in, 
Sighs, down-crushed hopes and fears ; 
And the web was broken, and poor, and thin, 
And it dripped with living tears. 

^' And the weaver fain would have flung it aside. 
But he knew it would be a sin; 
So in light and in gloom the shuttle he plied 
A-weaving those life-cords in. 

'^He upward turned his eye to heaven. 
And still wove on — on — on! 
Till the last, last cord from his heart was riven 
And the tissue strange was done. 

^^Then he threw it about his shoulders bowed,. 
And about his grizzled head. 
And, gathering close the folds of his shroud, 
Laid him down among the dead. 

*^ And after, I saw, in a robe of lighi^ 
That weaver in the sky; 
The angels' wings were not more bright, 
And the stars grew pale, it nigh. 

^^ And I saw 'mid the folds all the iris-hued flowers 
That beneath his touch had sprung, 
More beautiful far than these stray ones of ours 
Which the angels have to us flung. 

** And wherever a tear had fallen down 
Gleamed out a diamond rare. 
And jewels befitting a monarch's crown 
Were the footprints left by care.'^ 



THE LOOM OF LIFE. 27 

God will at length show us the right 
side of the picture, the completed scheme 
he has planned for us, so beautiful, of 
such exquisite glory and blessedness, that 
I sometimes think that the first thing we 
shall do when we reach our heavenly 
home will be to go straight to the Lord, 
and bowing before him, say, " Dear Lord, 
forgive the murmurings at my lot, and 
take my innermost thanks for the way in 
which thou didst lead me, and for the plan 
of life thou didst prepare for me." 

IIL It is a necessary consequence 
of our free wills, of the fact that the 
web of our life is woven in part by our 
own free choices, that we can mar and 
spoil God's proposed plan for us. "We 
can break our threads ; we can weave in 
the wrong colors of sinful pleasures ; we 
can make demons instead of angels, the 
flames of remorse instead of the light of 
heaven, midnight revelry instead of the 
paradise of God. We can utterly spoil 
that picture which might have been the 
blessed result of our lives. 

A German poem represents a good man 



28 THE LOOM OF LIFE. 

as coming, after his death, to the gates of 
heaven, and welcomed to its glories. An 
angel was commissioned to be his con- 
ductor and teacher. First he took him 
to a point where he could see the most 
fearful representation of sin when it had 
brought forth death. It was a fearful 
place, peopled with everything hateful, 
loathsome, and wretched. His guide 
bade him look still farther down the dis- 
mal vault, and farther still, where were 
objects more anguished, and loathsome, 
and haggard with wasting woe. He bade 
him concentrate his vision on an object 
more hideous and disgusting than he ever 
could have imagined. "That," said his 
conductor, " in the ages of eternity would 
have been you, had you not repented and 
believed. Behold the woe and degrada- 
tion from which you have been saved by 
the compassion of your Saviour ! " His 
guide then took him to a point from 
which could be seen the glories of the re- 
deemed. He saw the highest ranks of 
angels, he heard their songs and hallelu- 
jahs, and was ravished. He was directed 



THE L003I OF LIFE. 29 

to look far beyond all these, and there he 
beheld an object more beautiful than the 
highest saint who had been longest in 
heaven, more blissful than seraph or 
archangel. He heard music in elf ably- 
more sweet than any which flowed from 
the harps of the angels nearest the throne. 
The excess of glory overpowered him. 
Then said his conductor : " That beauti- 
ful and enraptured being is yourself many 
ages hence. Behold the glory and the 
bliss to which you are exalted through 
the salvation of the Redeemer." 

It will be a sad thing to gaze forever 
on a ruined life, and to know that our 
own hands wrought the ruin. Here are 
two pictures hanging side by side. One 
is the picture of what God meant us to 
be, with all the possibilities of usefulness 
and blessing. There are all the good 
deeds, the loving words, the glorious 
traits of character, which God had 
planned for our lives, transcendently 
beautiful, a vision of shining glory. The 
other is a picture of the life we have 
lived, with its sins and errors, wrongs 



30 THE LOOM OF LIFE. 

done, duties omitted, opportunities neg- 
lected, its evil thoughts, its passionate 
words, its selfish deeds, its disobedience 
to God our Father, — a life scorched with 
the fires of the pit, and defiled with the 
smoke of its burning. To view forever 
those pictures, conscious that God wanted 
us to live the one, but that we wilfully 
chose the other, — that will be hell. 

For we must remember that God never 
spoils a man's life. Circumstances never 
spoil a life. Trials, difficulties, tempta- 
tions, battle-fields, mean victories ; they 
mean character; they mean brighter 
crowns, higher thrones, sweeter harps; 
and we transform them into excuses for 
sin. 

God has made no soul for hell, for ruin, 
for sin, but every soul for goodness and 
glory and heaven. And whosoever per- 
ishes is a moral suicide. Only his own 
hand can lock the gate of heaven against 
himself. He has stumbled over the very 
steps to glory. 

IV. How may we succeed in carrying 
out God's plan for our lives ? In the first 



THE LOOM OF LIFE, 31 

place, every one of us has put in so 
much that is wrong, and omitted so many 
duties, that there is no hope for us save in 
the cleansing blood of Christ, blotting out 
our sins. 

Even then the thought troubles us. 
How can forgiveness take away the fact 
of the sin ? No matter what is done for 
us, nor how lovingly we are welcomed to 
our Father's love, the fact of the sin re- 
mains. Peter denied his Lord; forgive- 
ness and restoration did not blot out the 
fact, nor even the record of the fact 
known and read of all men. David was 
cleansed from his sin, and God blotted 
out his transgressions, and he was washed 
" whiter than snow," but the fact and the 
record are ever connected with his name.^ 



^ After this volume was in type, and long after it 
was written and named, a capital little book with the 
same title, by Rev. Oliver Huckel, came to my no- 
tice. It contains the following apt illustration, 
which did not occur to me, although I daily see in my 
home a picture of Penelope : — 

* ^ The old poet Homer in his tale of the Odyssey 
tells of Penelope's weaving in her island home at 
Ithaca. Her husband, the brave Ulysses, in his long 
sea- wanderings was reported lost. The years passed 
and Penelope was faithful to his memory. But eager 



32 THE LOOM OF LIFE. 

That charming book, " The Stars and 
the Earth," shows us how every deed is 
sending its picture out into the universe, 
and there is always some place where a 
sufficiently powerful eye can see the deed 
actually taking place. There is some star 
now that the rays from Abraham's sacri- 
fice four thousand years ago have just 
reached, and a star where a keen eye 
could actually watch the workers under 
Nehemiah building the walls of the 
temple twenty-five hundred years ago. 
Every deed is written in the books of the 
universe, and how shall we escape it? 
How can we, so sinful, so weak, so full of 
errors, join the company of the angels 
and the martyrs and the saints, and look 
them in the face ? Yet to do that is one 
of the sweetest joys of heaven. How 



and impatient suitors came. For a long time Penelope 
put them off. Then at last she told them that she 
would wed when she had finished the web she was 
weaving. So she wove by day, and picked out the 
work at night, and through her woman's wit the web 
was never finished until Ulysses returned. But our 
weaving cannot be picked out again. What we have 
woven, we have woven. It is an irrevocable record, 
a life-history, a witness for and against us forever.'' 



TEE L003I OF LIFE, 33 

shall it be that, as to Richard III. in his 
last dream one injured one after another 
came before him, and said, " Let me sit 
heavy on thy soul to-night," so our sins 
shall not sit heavy on our souls for- 
ever ? 

A simple illustration has often com- 
forted me. I have seen a black coal by 
the roadside. It was very black. I have 
seen the sun shine on that jet-black coal, 
and then I could no longer see its black- 
ness because of the radiance reflected 
from it. It was no longer a spot of 
blackness; it was a star of glory. So, 
when we get to heaven, the wondrous 
wisdom and love of God in saving such 
sinners as we have been will make every 
one forget the sin in the radiance of re- 
deeming love. We shall forget the battle 
and the wounds in the victory. 

*^ Saint Augustine, well hast thou said 
That of our vices we can frame 
A ladder, if we will but tread 

Beneath our feet each deed of shame. ^^ 

All can forget the sins and failures and 
weaknesses and errors, if only these be- 



34 THE LOOM OF LIFE. 

come the rungs of a ladder that reaches 
to heaven. 

Then, after forgiveness our success de- 
pends on our working exactly according 
to God's pattern. Let no tempter per- 
suade us to put in a line different from his 
command, or leave out one he has bidden 
us to put in. We cannot improve on 
God's copy. Many wrong things seem so 
precious, so attractive ; but leave them all 
out. And many duties seem hard, many 
virtues difficult, but put them all in. 

And so much of our lives, as God has 
planned them, seems commonplace. We 
long for wider spheres, grander work, 
more heroic duties. But we should remem- 
ber that often the quiet and neutral tints, 
with the brighter spots of color God puts 
into every life, will often make the most 
lovely pattern, the most charming picture ; 
and heroic deeds, and martyr's fires, and 
kingly power, often bring no more of 
divine beauty than a true life in a lovf ly 
home, or in honest daily toil. The sweet 
landscape of the valley has a charm denied 
to Alpine peaks or cathedral piles. The 



THE LOOM OF LIFE, 35 

secret of life is io do the lowliest work in 
the noblest spirit. 

^^If the dear Lord should send an angel down, 
A seraph radiant in his robes of light, 
To do some menial service in our streets, 
As braying stone, we '11 say, from morn till 
night; 
Think you the faintest blush would rise 
To mar the whiteness of his holy face ? 
Think you a thought of discontent would find 
Within his perfect heart abiding-place ? 

* ^ I love to think the sweet will of his God 

Would seem as gracious in a seraph's eyes, 
In the dark and miry crowded lanes of earth, 

As in the ambrosial bowers of Paradise ; 
That those fair hands which lately swept the lyre 

Would not against their lowly work rebel, 
But, as they ever wrought his will in heaven, 

Would work it here as faithfully and well.'^ 

God's plan is our best. And whereso- 
ever our lot is cast, hj doing the duties 
God bids us to do, by bearing the bur- 
dens his love lays upon us, by a heart 
overflowing with love, by a childlike 
trust in our Saviour, we are certain to 
weave a life that will be a joy and a 
blessing throughout the eternal ages, and 



36 THE LOOM OF LIFE. 

will win God's "Well done, good and 
faithful servant; enter into the joy of 
thy Lord." 

SPINNING. 

Like a blind spinner in the sun 

I tread my days ; 
I know that aU the threads wiU run 

Appointed ways; 
I know each day will bring its task, 
And, being blind, no more I ask. 

I do not know the use or name 

Of that I spin; 
I only know that some one came 

And laid within 
My hand the thread, and said, ^' Since you 
Are blind, but one thing you can do.'^ 

Sometimes the threads so rough and fast 

And tangled fly, 
I know wild storms are sweeping past, 

And fear that I 
Shall fall; but dare not try to find 
A safer place, since I am blind. 

I know not why, but I am sure 

That tint and place 
In some great fabric to endure 

Past time and race 
My threads will have; so from the firsfc, 
Though blind, I never felt accursed. 



THE LOOM OF LIFE. 37 

I think perhaps this trust has sprung 

From one short word 
Said over me when I was young, — 

So young, I heard 
It knowing not that God's name signed 
My brow, and sealed me his, though blind. 

But, whether this be seal or sign 

Within, without, 
It matters not. The bond divine 

I never doubt. 
I know he set me here, and still, 
And glad, and blind, I wait his will; 

But listen, listen, day by day, 

To hear their tread 
Who bear the finished web away. 

And cut the thread. 
And bring God's message in the sun, 
*'Thou poor blind spinner, work is done.'^ 
— Helen Hunt Jackson, 



SONG OF HOPE. 

Children of yesterday, heirs of to-morrow, 
What are you weaving ? Labor and sorrow. 
Look at your loom again ; faster and faster 
Fly the great shuttles prepared by the Master. 

There's life in the loom; 

Eoom for it! 
Koom! 



38 THE LOOM OF LIFE. 

Children of yesterday, heirs of to-morrow, 
Lighten your labor and sweeten your sorrow. 
Now, while the shuttles fly faster and faster, 
Up and be at it, at work for the Master. 

He stands by your loom; 

Koom for him! 
Koom! 

Children of yesterday, heirs of to-morrow, 
Look at your fabric of labor and sorrow, 
Seamy and dark with despair and disaster; 
Turn it, and lo! the design of the Master. 
The Lord's at the loom; 
Eoom for him! 
Room! 

— Mary A. LatJibury. 

THE WEB OF LIFE. 

A weaver standing at his loom one day 

Wrought with uncertain hand some strange design; 

A tangled mesh it seemed, line blurring line, 
Unsuited contrasts — warp and woof astray. 
Sometimes he paused, and pushed his work away. 

* * The task is hopeless, ' ' said he, and sighed, 
But patiently resumed ; and one by one 
The broken threads were mended. 
When 't was done 

He turned the frame, and lo! Upon that side 
A radiant light his startled eyes did greet. 

What seemed confusion had been hidden law. 

And the designer's dream at last he saw, 
Resulting, lovely, perfect, and complete! 



THE LOOM OF LIFE, 39 

Like that old weaver, troubled, faint with fear 
We weave the fabric which we call our life ; 

And our ignoring fingers through the years 
Hold most incongruous threads — hard-knotted strife, 

Broken ambition, and entangled love, 
Faint hope, contrasting with intense despair, 
Dark hues of sorrow — all these things are there. 

But, when the day shall dawn on heights above, 
Some gracious light upon our work may shine, 

Eevealing clearly how the Master's hand 

Guided harmonious each discordant strand, 
And from the human fashioned the divine. 



ONE STITCH. 

One stitch dropped as the weaver drove 

His nimble shuttle to and fro. 
In and out, beneath, above, 

Till the pattern seems to bud and grow 
As if the fairies had helping been ; 
And the one stitch dropping pulled the next stitch 

out, 
And a weak place in the fabric stout, 
And the perfect pattern was marred for aye 
By the one small stitch that was dropped that day. 

One small life in God's great plan. 

How futile it seems as the ages roll. 
Do what it may, or strive how it can. 

To alter the sweep of the infinite whole! 
A single stitch in an endless web, 
A drop in the ocean's flow and ebb; 



40 THE LOOM OF LIFE. 

But the pattern is rent where the stitch is lost, 
Or marred where the tangled threads have crossed; 
And each life that fails of the true intent 
Mars the perfect plan that its Master meant. 

— Susan CooUdge, 

OUR PATTERN. 

The colors we had to weave 

Were bright in our early years ; 

But we wove the tissue wrong, and stained 
The woof with bitter tears. 

We wove a web of doubt and fear — 
Not faith, and hope, and love — 

Because we looked at our work, and not 
At our Pattern up above ! 

— Phoebe Gary. 



* ^ Think you the notes of holy song 
On Milton's tuneful ear have died? 
Think you that Kaphael's angel throng 
Has vanished from his side ? 

^' O, no! we live our lives again. 

All warmly touched or coldly done. 
The pictures of the past remain, 
Man's works shall follow on. 

^^ Still shall the soul around it call 
The shadows that it gathered here; 
And painted on the eternal wall 
The past shall reappear. 



THE LOOM OF LIFE, 41 

*^ We shape ourselves the joy or fear 
Of which the coming life is made, 
And fill our future atmosphere 
With sunshine or with shade. 

*' The tissue of the life to be 

We weave in colors all our own, 
And in the field of destiny 
We reap what we have sown/' 



*^ Through every web of life the dark threads run. 
O, why and whither God knows all. 
I only know that he is good, 
And whatever may befall, 
Or here or there, must be the best that could/' 



Too long have I, methought, with tearful eye 
Pored o'er this tangled work of mine, and mused 
Above each stitch awry and thread confused; 
Now well I think on what in years gone by 
I heard of them that weave rare tapestry 
At royal looms, and how they constant use 
To work on the rough side, and still peruse 
The pictured pattern set above them high; 
So will I set my copy high above. 

And gaze, and gaze till on my spirit grows 
Its gracious impress ; till some line of love. 

Transferred upon my canvas, faintly glows ; 
Nor look too much on warp or woof, provide 
He whom I work for sees their fairer side. 

— Author of ** Patience of Hope,^^ 



42 THE LOOM OF LIFE. 

^' The threads our hands in blindness spin 
Our self-determined plan weaves in; 
The shuttle of the unseen powers 
Works out a pattern not as ours. ' ' 



*' All day, all night, I can hear the jar 
Of the loom of life ; and near and far 
It thrills with its deep and muffled sound, 
As the tireless wheels go always round ; 
Busily, ceaselessly, goes the loom, 
In the light of the day and the midnight's gloom, 
The wheels are turning early and late. 
And the woof is wound in the warp of fate. 

*^And now there's a thread of love wove in, 
And now another of wrong and sin ; 
What a checkered thing will this life be, 
When we see it unrolled in eternity! 
Time, with her wings of mystery. 
And hands as busy as hands can be. 
Still sits at the loom, with arms outspread, 
To clutch in its meshes each glancing thread. 

^'O, when shall this wonderful web be done? 
In a thousand years, or perhaps in one. 
Or to-morrow, — who knoweth? nor you nor I ; 
But the wheels run on and the shuttles fly. 
Ah, sad-eyed weavers, the years are slow. 
But each one is nearer the end, I know ; 
Some day the last thread shall be woven in,— 
God grant it be love instead of sin." 



If Christ Were a Guest in 
Our Home. 



If Christ Were a Guest in 
Our Home. 




FEW years ago (1894) there was 
published a volume by Mr. Wil- 
liam T. Stead, the brilliant Eng- 
lish reformer and editor, with 
the title, 

"If Cheist Came to Chicago." 

Its title and dominant idea were sug- 
gested by James Russell Lowell's poem, 
"A Parable," beginning, — 

^' Said Christ our Lord, ' I wiU go and see 
How the men, my brothers, believe in me. ' ' ' 

Coming to earth as a man, the glorious 
Son of God, he was welcomed with pomp 
and state by rulers and kings. Carpets of 
gold were spread for him to walk upon. 

45 



46 IF CHRIST WERE A GUEST. 

* * And in palace-chambers lofty and rare 
They lodged him, and served him with kingly fare ; 
Great organs surged through arches dim 
Their jubilant floods in praise of him." 

But Christ turned away from all these, 
for he was looking to see what they had 
done with his poor brothers, how they 
treated the bodies and souls of those he 
had left in their care. 

**Then Christ sought out an artisan, 
A low-browed, stunted, haggard man ; 
And a motherless girl, whose fingers thin 
Pushed from her faintly want and sin. 

** These he set in the midst of them, 
And, as they drew back their garment hem 
For fear of defilement, ' Lo, here, ' said he, 
^ The images ye have made of me. ' ' ^ 

Mr. Stead represents Christ as going 
down into the depths of sin in the great 
city, searching for " the images ye have 
made of me." He looks into the prisons ; 
he peers into the gambling-hells ; he finds 
the haunts of the scarlet woman; he 
watches men worshipping "the Chicago 
trinity of multiple-millionaires," like Neb- 



IF CHRIST WERE A GUEST. 47 

uchadnezzar's image with heads of gold 
and feet of clay ; he calls at the saloons 
where men are being changed into brutes, 
and sees the great Juggernaut of Intem- 
perance crushing multitudes under its 
gilded car ; he sees the bottomless pit of 
political corruption, and the buying and 
selling of votes ; the police with one eye 
shut to sin, and the other open to bribes. 
He even sees the churches open one day 
in the week and divided all the days ; and 
" tuning their music to their audiences " ; 
he enters the dismal police-stations, where 
gather in winter, " like the frogs in the 
Egyptian plague," "the homeless wan- 
derers in this desert of stone and steel." 

In reading the book one feels as if 
he were walking with Dante, with his 
blanched face, in the seven circles of 
Purgatory, or in the deeper depths of 
the Inferno ; or as if he were on a pil- 
grimage with Bunyan's Pilgrim, and saw 
only the huge burden of sin on his back, 
the terrors of the Yalley of the -Shadow of 
Death, and of angels, only the dart-hurl- 
ing and fire-breathing ApoUyon. One 



48 IF CHRIST WERE A GUEST. 

seems to be really dwelling in " Satan's 
Invisible "World Eevealed," the title of a 
later book by Mr. Stead on the corrup- 
tions of New York. 

There are indeed some chapters at the 
close of the book on what Christ would 
do after he had seen all these things, and 
a vision of what the city might become 
in the twentieth century. But one does 
not see, in what Christ is represented as 
seeing, where, in all this jungle of thorns 
and poisonous weeds, there are any seeds 
which could grow into trees of life, or 
change this dismal swamp into the gar- 
den of Paradise. 

While most of the statements made are 
probably according to fact, and it is well 
to have these evils clearly stated in order 
to arouse men to remove them, yet it is 
only a small part of the truth, like the 
very thin dummy volume in the library 
of Dickens at Gadshill, which he entitled 
" The Virtues of Our Ancestors." 

But I cannot imagine the Jesus who 
walked in Galilee nineteen hundred years 
ago, and whose picture is presented in 



IF CHRIST WERE A GUEST. 49 

the gospels, as going into any city and 
seeing only the evil therein. He did say, 
" Woe unto you," but that is a small part 
of the Gospel record. I cannot conceive 
of him as going among the people chiefly 
to criticise, as seeing the fading divisions 
of the churches, and not their growing 
unity, as condemning them for doing 
their work chiefly on Sundays and even- 
ings, any more than one would condemn 
our educational plants because they keep 
school only five hours a day for five days 
in the week, or a dining-room because 
there is eating there only two or three 
hours a day, while in the strength of that 
food all hours are made useful. I cannot 
conceivje of Jesus seeing only the thorns 
on a rosebush, and not the roses, or the 
fly on a church door, and not the church. 
Nor can I conceive how Christ would 
find " the images ye have made of me " 
only in the downtrodden and the sinful 
and the starving, made so, not by the 
Christian people, but by the forces and 
influences that they, all too feebly in- 
deed, are steadily and earnestly oppos- 



50 IF CHRIST WERE A GUEST, 

ing. He would see the good men and 
women, the heroes in common life, the 
men of noble deeds and large giving, the 
self-denying laborers in the spiritual har- 
vest fields, the martyrs of the hospital 
and the home, crucified on unseen crosses 
and burning in invisible flames; these, 
too, he would set in their midst, and say, 

^'Lo, here 
The images ye have made of me.'' 

The next year Eev. Dr. Edward Everett 
Hale wrote a book entitled 

" If Jesus Came to Bostoist." 

It did not contradict Mr. Stead, but 
presented the other side of the picture, 
which is as true of Chicago and New York 
as it is of Boston. 

He represents Jesus as a Syrian stranger 
from over the sea, arriving in Boston in 
search of his long-lost brother. He is 
taken in charge, and visits every place in 
the city whose work is to save lost men 
from sin and suffering. Inquiries are 
made at the Associated Charities, the res- 



IF CHRIST WERE A GUEST, 51 

cue missions, the college settlements, the 
churches, the Sunday-schools, the day- 
schools, the hospitals, the soup-kitchens, 
the kitchen-gardens, the Young Men's 
Christian Associations, the Young AVom- 
en's Christian Associations, the Salvation 
Army, the evening-schools, the children's 
homes, the day-nurseries, the public libra- 
ries, the police-stations, the courthouses, 
the reformatories, the homes for the aged 
and the sick, and innumerable other places 
for the help of men. No one knows more 
about these things in Boston than does 
Dr. E. E. Hale, or has had more to do 
with them. But the half cannot be told, 
i^ot one person in a thousand of those 
who go daily to any great city know one- 
tenth, hardly one-hundredth part, of the 
efforts made to help our fellow men. In 
New York it takes a volume of five 
hundred pages to give simply the names 
and officers of the societies which are 
thus at work. 

Dr. Hale closes with a telegraph des- 
patch from the departing Syrian stranger, 
which would equally well apply to each 



52 IF CHRIST WERE A GUEST. 

of our great cities: — " I have gone to 
Chicago. I find I have other sheep there. 
What you in Boston have been doing to 
the least of these my brethren and my 
sisters, you have done it unto me." 

In February of that same year (1895) 
there passed away to his heavenly home 
one of the best-known and most useful 
of the Boston ministers. Rev. Dr. A. 
J. Gordon, pastor of the Clarendon Street 
Baptist Church. Since his death there 
has been published a book entitled, 

" How Christ Came to Church, " 

which gives in his own words a part of 
his spiritual autobiography, and contains 
an experience so sw^eet, so marvellous, so 
full of power, that it comes like a bene- 
diction on all who read it. Even we who 
knew him in a measure were not aware 
of this experience, but only of its results. 
Whether his intimate friends knew about 
it, I do not know. 

Twenty years before his death, and 
when he had been pastor about five years, 
there came to him a most vivid dream. 



IF CHRIST WERE A GUEST. 53 

which, as really as Peter's vision on the 
house top, changed his whole life. " It 
was Saturday night, when wearied from 
the work of preparing Sunday's sermon, 
that I fell asleep and the dream came. I 
was in the pulpit before a full congrega- 
tion, just ready to begin my sermon, 
when a stranger entered and passed slowly 
up the left aisle of the church, looking 
first to the one side and then to the other 
as though silently asking with his eyes 
that some one would give him a seat. He 
had proceeded nearly half-way up the 
aisle when a gentleman stepped out and 
offered him a place in his pew, v»^hich was 
quietly accepted. Excepting the face and 
features of the stranger, everything in the 
scene is distinctly remembered — the num- 
ber of the pew, the Christian man who 
offered its hospitality, the exact seat 
which was occupied. Only the counte- 
nance of the visitor could never be re- 
called. That his face wore a peculiarly 
serious look, as of one who had known 
some great sorrow, is clearly impressed 
on my mind. His bearing, too, was ex- 



64 IF CHRIST WERE A GUEST. 

ceeding humble, his dress poor and plain, 
and from the beginning to the end of the 
service he gave the most respectful at- 
tention to the preacher. Immediately as 
I began my sermon my attention became 
riveted on this hearer. If I would avert 
my eyes from him for a moment they 
v^ould instinctively return to him, so that 
he held my attention rather than I held 
his till the discourse was ended. 

" To myself I said constantly, ' Who 
can that stranger be ? ' and then I men- 
tally resolved to find out by going to him 
and making his acquaintance as soon as 
the service should be over. But after the 
benediction had been given the departing 
congregation filed into the aisles, and be- 
fore I could reach him the visitor had left 
the house. The gentleman with whom 
he had sat remained behind, however; 
and, approaching him with great eager- 
ness, I asked : ' Can you tell me who that 
stranger was who sat in your pew this 
morning ? ' In the most matter-of-course 
way he replied : ' Why, did you not know 
that man ? It was Jesus of ISTazareth.' 



IF CHRIST WERE A GUEST. 55 

" With a sense of the keenest disappoint- 
ment I said : ' My dear sir, why did you 
let him go without introducing me to 
him ? I was so desirious to speak with 
him.' 

" And w4th the same nonchalant air 
the gentleman replied : ' O, do not be 
troubled. He has been here to-day, and 
no doubt he will come again.' 

" And now came an indescribable rush 
of emotion. As when a strong current 
is suddenly checked, the stream rolls back 
upon itself 5 and is choked in its own foam, 
so the intense curiosity which had been go- 
ing out toward the mysterious hearer now 
returned upon the preacher : and the Lord 
himself, ' whose I am and whom I serve,' 
had been listening to me to-day. What 
was I saying? In what spirit did I 
preach ? What did he think of our sanc- 
tuary ? How was he impressed with the 
music and the order of worship ? A life- 
time, almost an eternity, of interest 
crowded into a single moment." 

That dream or vision changed not only 
his own life, but the life and spirit and 

tire. 



56 IF CHRIST WERE A GUEST. 

work of the church, as has been testified 
to me by those who were a part thereof. 
Suppose now that in the light of these 
three books we should consider what 
would be the effect 

If Jesus Were a Guest ii^ our Home, 

if he should come to us visibly and con- 
sciously, and make one of our family, as 
he was with Mary and Martha and 
Lazarus in their home at Bethany. He 
is really with us, though we see him not, 
as the scenery is around us, though the 
near-sighted man cannot perceive it, and 
as the angel legions were a guard around 
Elisha in Doth an, although invisible to 
his servant. But 

*^ There are who like the seer of old 
Can see the helpers God has sent, 
And how life's rugged mountain-side 
Is white with many an angel tent. ' ^ 

In the first place I am sure that Jesus 
would be welcomed by all the good and 
all who longed to be good. A Methodist 
minister, so it is said, once declared that 



IF CHRIST WERE A GUEST. 57 

none of our churches would accept Jesus 
as their pastor except the Methodist, and 
they would do it only because they could 
get rid of him at the end of a year. But 
that statement is the basest of slanders. 
Most of the church people would like to 
have Jesus to lead and guide them, to 
solve their doubts, to make plain what 
they ought to do and give, to direct their 
plans and inspire their hopes. 

Jesus would make a most delightful 
guest and friend. There was something 
very charming and attractive about him, 
so that children were drawn toward him, 
and even publicans and sinners were at- 
tracted by his love that sympathized with 
their struggles, and fostered every hope 
and aspiration to be better. We have 
too often thought of our Heavenly 
Father, and in less measure of his Son 
Jesus, as a severe critic, as one who was 
forever searching for some fault or error, 
with ready reproof or policeman's club. 
I can well remember how to me as a little 
boy the words, "Thou God seest me/' 



58 IF CHRIST WERE A GUEST. 

meant that God saw whatever wrong I 
might do, and was continually looking 
for it with a critic's eye. And this was 
the impression gained from the familiar 
story of the man going into his neigh- 
bor's orchard to steal apples, and looking 
in every direction to learn whether any 
one was watching him, when his little 
boy said, "Father, you forgot to look 
up." 

Of course Jesus knows all our sins and 
mistakes, every evil thought, every wrong 
motive, every unholy desire cherished, 
every selfish feeling or action. If we are 
Christians, we want him to know them, 
so that he can forgive, and help us to get 
rid of them. God's presence was wel- 
come to Adam and Eve in the Garden 
till they disobeyed him. Then they tried 
to hide from him. But to them and all 
their children he is welcome when they 
repent and turn to him. For he sees our 
sin as a physician sees the signs of disease 
in us, in order to cure ; or as the gardener 
sees weeds among the flowers, in order to 
destroy them. In the third chapter of 



IF CHRIST WERE A GUEST. 59 

First Corinthians there is a curious ex- 
pression, "Ye are God's husbandry," 
which had little meaning to me in the 
common version. The Revised Version 
made it clearer when it read in the 
margin, "Ye are God's tilled land." 
Some one made it much plainer by trans- 
lating it " Ye are God's farm," his garden. 
Jesus, looking at us as his garden, is seek- 
ing fruits and flowers. To these he gives 
all his care. And, if he finds weeds and 
thorns there, he roots them up, no matter 
how much disturbance it makes in the 
soil, but always for the sake of the fruits 
and flowers. 

Jesus is a delightful companion to his 
disciples because he knows us just as we 
are in our inmost souls, in our longings, 
in our ideals, in our penitence for our 
failures and resolutions to overcome ; and 
there are veijy few who can do this, even 
our most intimate friends. 

O. W. Holmes, in " The Autocrat of 
the Breakfast Table," gives a shrewd 
illustration of the difiiculty any two peo- 
ple have in understanding each other. 



60 IF CHRIST WERE A GUEST. 

"When John and Thomas, for instance, 
are talking together, it is natural enough 
that among the six there should be more 
or less confusion and misapprehension." 
(Here the auditors were astonished, and 
thought of Falstaff's nine men in buck- 
ram grown out of two.) " I think I can 
make it plain that there are at least six 
personalities distinctly to be recognized 
as taking part in that dialogue between 
John and Thomas, — 

1. The real John, known only to 
his Maker. 

2. John's ideal John, never the 
real one and often very un- 
like him. 

3. Thomas's ideal John, never the 
real John, nor John's John, 
but often very unlike either. 

ri. The real Thomas. 
Three Thomases. \ 2. Thomas's ideal Thomas, 
i 3. John's ideal Thomas. 

" Only one of the three Johns is taxed ; 
only one can be weighed on a platform 
balance, but the other two are just as im- 
portant in the conversation. Let us sup- 
pose the real John to be old, dull, and ill- 
looking. . . . John conceives himself to 



Three Johns. 



IF CHRIST WERE A GUEST. 61 

be youthful, witty, and fascinating, and 
talks from the point of view of this ideal. 
Thomas, again, believes him to be an art- 
ful rogue. ... It follows that until a 
man can be found who knows himself as 
his Maker knows him, or sees himself as 
others see him, there must be at least six 
persons engaged in every dialogue be- 
tween two. . . . No wonder two dis- 
putants often get angry, when there are 
six of them talking and listening all at 
the same time." 

Jesus knows the real John and the real 
Thomas, with no mistakes, with no mis- 
understandings. The ice is broken be- 
tween them. Teacher and pupils are as 
one, and this makes the most delightful 
friendship where one longs to teach and 
the other longs to be taught. Every 
disciple of Jesus can be "a favorite 
scholar." 

I remember reading of an advertise- 
ment by a young man who sought a 
boarding-place " where his good Chris- 
tian example would be a sufficient com- 
pensation." I have had many a person 



6S IF CUEIST WERE A GUEST. 

at my house, and have known many more 
I would like to have, whose presence was 
such a benediction that it paid many 
times over for all cost or trouble. Jesus 
Christ is such a guest. His presence 
blesses us more than the ark blessed the 
house of Obed-edom. What an effect it 
would have upon our home life if we 
were conscious of Jesus' presence there ! 
It would make such a change in the home 
as the dream of his presence wrought in 
Dr. Gordon's church. How pure and de- 
lightful our conversation would be ! 
How courteous would be our intercourse 
with one another in such a presence ! 
The speaking evil of others would cease. 
There would no scolding, no fretting, no 
exhibitions of bad temper. How helpful 
every child would be to father and 
mother ! There would be Bible-study in 
that family, and family prayers, and an 
atmosphere of spiritual life. Each one 
would bring something bright and cheer- 
ful to the daily meals. Everything would 
be loving, harmonious, natural, cheerful, 
entertaining. Sports and games and witty 



IF CHRIST WERE A GUEST. 63 

remarks, and all that gives brightness 
and restfulness, would be a part of the 
home life, but in the most pure and 
Christian spirit. 

Many years ago I heard a sermon from 
a college professor on the two disciples at 
Emmaus constraining Jesus to abide with 
them. The notes I took were something 
like this : — 

" The same principles apply as in the 
welcome of a guest. 1. We must feel our 
welcome with warm hearts. 2. We must 
express the desire and the invitation ur- 
gently. 3. We must put away whatever 
would be disagreeable to him. 4. We 
must entertain him with our best, and 
make his stay as delightful as possible. 
5. We must be in sympathy with his 
plans and his work, and converse with 
him about them. Then will he abide in 
our hearts, our homes, and our churches." 

Jesus cannot consciously be a guest 
in our homes unless we constrain him to 
come. Then he will bring such blessing 
as will make our homes a training-school 
for heaven. They will be Paradise re- 



64 IF CHRIST WERE A GUEST. 

gained. They will breathe the atmos- 
phere of the city of God. 

* *• Abide with me ! fast falls the eventide, 
The darkness deepens. Lord, with me abide. 
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, 
Help of the helpless, O abide with me! 

" Come, not to sojourn, but abide, with me.'' 



OCT 4-1900 



Deaciciified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Oct. 2005 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN PAPER PRESERVATION 

1 li 1 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
.{724)779-2111 



